


'Tis The Season

by catteo



Category: NCIS: Los Angeles
Genre: Christmas Themes, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-23 05:29:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/618621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catteo/pseuds/catteo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Deeks is as annoying as always, but the Christmas Spirit does weird things to Kensi. For advent fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	'Tis The Season

**Author's Note:**

  * For [in48frames](https://archiveofourown.org/users/in48frames/gifts).



Deeks is late. 

Which, in the usual way of things would not be pissing Kensi off. Ordinarily she’d be kicking back and relaxing to the sound of a blissful lack of innuendo, but this stakeout has been going for three hours now and she’s bored out of her mind. He’s probably lost.

Idiot.

Kensi’s beginning to imagine the various ways she can cause Deeks significant discomfort when the man himself suddenly slides into the passenger seat next to her.

“Hi partner. You miss me?” 

She can’t quite remember the moment that the answer to this became an emphatic yes. Kensi tells herself that it was minute forty-seven of this ridiculous stakeout, but then she always was best at lying to herself.

“Yeah. Like a bullet to the head, Deeks.” She grins at him beatifically, ignores the small voice in her head, clamouring for attention.

“ _Ouch_ , Kens.” Deeks clutches at his chest dramatically, rolling his eyes. “You wound me. Although, I see that you’re clearly referring to me out-shooting you on the range this week. Way to be the bigger person.”

“You blew in my ear Deeks. How is that a fair contest?” 

“You were _in the room_ , Kensi. Your beauty is distraction enough. I was just leveling the playing field,” Deeks says, shrugging innocently. 

“You were just being an ass.”

“A _fine_ ass though, right? _Right_?” Deeks takes the opportunity to lean over and blow on her neck. Kensi would rather die than admit to the fact that she doesn’t hate it. She smacks him on the nose with a finger.

“Down boy,” she says, smirking at him as he over dramatically rubs his nose and pouts at her. “Where the hell have you been anyway?”

“Well, Kensi, I woke up this morning, looked outside and realised it was a glorious day for a surf. So I spent a few hours catching some waves. Then I went and got one of those organic wheatgrass juices that you hate. Because you have no taste. Then I took Monty for a walk and we had a long chat about our respective _ladies_. Of course, Monty refers to them as his ‘bitches’, but I’m trying to be less of a misogynist…”

“Oh my God, Deeks, forget it. I don’t even care.” Which is a lie. But this is more solid ground, and Kensi doesn’t understand the way she’s been feeling around Deeks lately. Like she’s standing on quicksand but her mind hasn’t quite worked out that fighting just makes things worse. 

“You do, but that’s okay, I understand. My life is _pretty_ awesome. Lots to be jealous of. Although if you wanted to come and pick up chicks with me and Monty you only have to ask.”

Kensi decides it’s time to get out of the car.

+++++

It happens pretty much as it always does. Sam and Callen announce their presence as Federal Agents, the warehouse lights up like a Christmas tree (fitting, given the season), and Kensi and Deeks turn up just in time to see seven dead bodies littering the ground. Just _once_ Kensi would appreciate it if the other two could see fit to keep a suspect or three alive. She can tell from the eye-roll Deeks gives her that he’s thinking the exact same thing.

It’s disturbing that they’re on the same wavelength now.

“Since we appear to have no additional leads I’d say we’re done here. Yes?” Deeks is beaming. Kensi’s suddenly on full bullshit alert. “You guys give me a call if you need anything. Places to be and all that. See ya!” He’s out the door and half way across the parking lot before Kensi catches him.

“Hey, Deeks. Where are you off to in such a hurry?” She levels a _look_ at him. Her looks have been known to bring lesser men to their knees, but either she’s out of practice or exposure has made Deeks immune, because he just keeps on walking.

“Pilates.”

“You’re lying. You only go to Pilates on days that Julie teaches. That’s Monday, Thursday, and Saturday. And it’s Tuesday. Also? Christmas Eve. Pretty sure there’s no Pilates tonight Deeks,” and Kensi winces at the ammunition she’s just handed her partner. 

“You jealous?” Deeks rounds on her, delight apparent with every movement. “Kensi Blye, I do believe you’re blushing.”

“You’re ridiculous.” As far as comebacks go, it’s pretty average.

“I think that you’re missing the rest of that sentence, Kens. It’s ‘ _-ly awesome_ ’. In case you were wondering.”

“I wasn’t.” She sounds like a petulant schoolgirl, and really she just needs to get out before she totally loses all self-respect. Deeks grins and gets in his car. And then Kensi does what any self-respecting NCIS agent would do. She follows him.

+++++

They’re four blocks away from his apartment when Deeks suddenly pulls over outside a nondescript building with grass growing in the gutter and peeling grey-white paint. Kensi supposes that once upon a time it was probably white-white, but clearly this is a place that has seen better days. 

Kensi pulls up around the corner and starts counting to thirty. She gets as far as ten-Mississippi when there’s a knock on her window. She squeezes her eyes tight shut for a moment, can already see the scene play out in her head. No surprise when she opens them to find Deeks perched on the hood of her car. 

She’s pretty sure that the word she’s looking for is _sheepish_. Yeah, that’s how she feels. Sheepish. And busted.

“Hey there, partner.” She aims for nonchalance. Fails. “Fancy seeing you here.” 

“Kensi, I am a _Detective_. I _detected_ you about twenty minutes ago. Is this charade really necessary?” Deeks pushes himself up off her car as he says it. Kensi only shrugs, figures that the fewer words she says, the less incriminating the evidence he’ll have on her. “Well are you coming?” He says it as he’s walking away, and it’s all the invitation she needs.

+++++

“A soup kitchen? That’s your big secret? You volunteer at a soup kitchen?” She can hear her voice going up an octave. It’s part exasperation and part relief that she hasn’t walked in on a date with him and his Pilates instructor.

“You thought Julie was going to be here, didn’t you? It’s okay Kens, you can tell me if you were jealous. I’ll find it charming.”

Maybe she would tell him. If he hadn’t suddenly developed an uncanny ability to read her mind. And if he was wrong. Instead she busies herself putting on the apron she’s proffered by one of the other volunteers. Deeks is busy greeting everyone by name, all of them clearly delighted to see him. Kensi tries her best to ignore the small glow of pride that she feels burning deep inside at the fact that Deeks is _her_ friend. It’s absurd and possessive and Kensi is Not. That. Girl. 

Except for the moments when maybe she is.

“Kens, you should have said.”

“Wonderful. You’re speaking in code again. I do so love it when you do that.”

“There’s no shame in asking for a kiss from the fabulous Marty Deeks. I am known for my prowess in that department,” He’s grinning like the Cheshire Cat and Kensi feels as though she’s losing control.

“I have literally no idea what you’re talking about. Have you maybe sustained some sort of head injury?” Kensi’s tongue almost trips over the words in her haste to change the subject. Her eyes narrow as she follows the line of Deeks’ right index finger towards the ceiling. 

Mistletoe. 

Perfect.

“Well, Deeks, since _you_ lured _me_ here, I think we know who wants the kiss from whom.” Grammatical accuracy helps Kensi to focus in times of crisis. Her heartbeat is hammering in her ears and her palms are sweaty. She’s trained to kill and yet somehow she can’t handle Deeks in her personal space. She’s going to blame it on the fact that they’re close enough that he’s breathing her air. Clearly this is all the result of lack of oxygen.

“Kensi. Stop talking.” 

She can feel the heat of his hand at her waist, gentle but insistent pressure, nudging her towards him. Her pulse is racing and there’s white noise blasting in her head, drowning out anything resembling rational thought. She’s aware that Deeks has his other hand on her face, slight calluses grazing her cheekbone. They’re close enough that she can see the flecks of green in his eyes. But then his lips are on hers and it’s all she can do to remember to breathe.

In some ways it’s nothing like the first time, hurried and unexpected, with Deeks, for once, at a loss for words. But it feels the same. Stubble under her fingertips and the _taste_ of him. Saltwater and sunshine on her tongue, the barest hint of spice. She’s weightless and he’s the only thing keeping her anchored.

And then he moves and she’s left with nothing but empty air and sense memory, his skin under her fingertips puts her in free-fall. Her heart dances a staccato in her chest, runs and pauses that she feels in her bones. Kensi finally risks a look at his face, manages a half-smile in answer to the broad grin on his face. It takes her a moment to realise that the roaring in her ears is applause. Thirty people clapping and wolf-whistling at the impromptu display. Kensi feels her cheeks start to burn.

“We should probably take a bow.” Kensi takes some consolation from the fact that his voice isn’t that steady, and she suddenly notices that his fingers are twined into hers. It’s familiar somehow, like her hand fits with his, scars and all, and she allows herself to be pulled into a theatrical curtsey.

“Merry Christmas, Kens.” He bumps his shoulder with hers.

“Merry Christmas.” She pauses then before; “Are you ever going to give me my hand back?”

“Wasn’t planning on it.”


End file.
